


Tuyo (Your's)

by Methuselah87



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Narcos - Freeform, No Angst, Tender - Freeform, dea, happy boys only, the least sad way to do things, well a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methuselah87/pseuds/Methuselah87
Summary: Murphy's wife leaves and decides not to come back, setting off a chain of events that leads the two DEA agents to consider fostering a relationship together in order to cope with the pressures of the job. (Season 2 setting // includes some Spanish)
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Picture this; the burning hot summer sun baking the capital city of Columbia, Bogota, with its numerous ghettos awkward and misshapen as if they were cobbled together in a hurry, and its secrets as numerous as the stars on a clear night. When Steve Murphy first got there, he thought it was going to be one of life’s fun little adventures. The lush green jungle, the endless blue sky, new people in a new place - everything a young kid dreams of visiting when they leave home.

The streets of the market were thick with the aroma of fresh fruit and raw meat. The locals were friendly. The needs of the poor were unimportant. Everything you need to build a paradise had been handed to the Columbian people generations ago - and there was a saying that rang true today. God granted Columbians the most beautiful land in all the world - and in the same breath, cursed the land so that no one else could ever have it. 

Steve Murphy was not Columbian. He was an American DEA, a Drug Enforcement Agent. Murphy was blond, blue-eyed, and clean-shaven save for a handlebar mustache - he was also toting his beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed wife. On the plane, they stuck out like a sore thumb. But he didn’t care. He was excited to travel with his new wife, to see the world, and to work in a foreign country. His dreams died in the waiting room where he was dragged with his wife upon arrival. Papers for their cat? Fat chance. Someone one smelled a new American on Columbian soil, and it didn’t sit right with the drug lords of South America.

The second he set foot in Columbia, the narcos picked up Murphy’s scent like a bloodhound. The chum was in the water. Their first night, someone killed his wife’s cat and hung its corpse in their new apartment. His first week, Murphey tried to work around the strange dynamic of the other agent, Texas native Javier Peña, and the locals, who all called him gringo because he couldn’t speak Spanish. His first month ended up being the most frustrating month of his entire career.

A new DEA agent was joining the local police force - now, one was bad enough, but two? That was just insulting. They locals didn’t need nor did they want some blond himbo messing up the dynamic they'd worked out with Peña. The entire precinct kept him at arm's length. Their back-alley deals, dirty cops, and overtly sexual methods of obtaining information were too hard for a gringo to swallow. At least… that’s what they thought, anyway. 

Murphy earned his place there eventually. After a few passes at Pablo Escobar, the kingpin of cocaine, and quite a few failures, Steve was finally one of them. The locals finally got it. They were all in this shit storm together.

And after a few months, that shit was starting to get old. No amount of sex or cigarettes could fix this kinda thing; only time and luck could. When Murphey walked out of that blood-stained ghetto holding a baby girl in his arms, stepping over her dead mother on the way out the door, things were never really the same for him again. He was changing. This place was changing him. And he didn’t like it. 

Things got progressively worse from then on. Despite the blazing sun, Murphy felt darkness closing in all around him. He started to make decisions he wasn’t proud of. It helped having his wife Connie at home waiting for him at first, but then he began to scare her. He got shot. He got kidnapped. Then, he threatened a driver with his gun in a fit of road rage, and when she tried to convince him to move back to Miami, it was over. He knew he couldn’t go. This place was in him - it was his home now. And Pablo Escobar? Well, he'd just escaped from La Catedral. The chase was on.

So, one morning Connie packed up and left with the baby. And for Murphy, was the last straw that broke the camel's back. 

* * *

“Where is he?” Peña asked, hovering by the desk of the local police chief. The cheap lighting made his chiseled features appear sickly. His hands fidgeted as he stood there, wearing a burgundy button-up tucked into a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a pair of brown transparent aviators. 

The younger Columbian man glanced up at him weightily. He was under a lot of stress from the recent arrival of their new American boss, but he never failed to treat Peña with the respect he knew the man deserved. So long as that respect remained mutual, that is. “Murphy left early.”

“Again?” 

“Si.” The younger man looked back to the forms he was working on. "¿Por qué hacer una pregunta cuando sabe la respuesta?"

"Cállate," Peña muttered, turning to go. He did already know the answer. But it helped to ask, just in case he was wrong this time. It helped him hope things would get better for Murphy. He plucked his leather jacket off the back of his chair. “I’m going, too.”

“Buenas noches,” the chief called to Peña’s back sarcastically. He shook his head and went back to work. Murphey’s slack was barely noticed these days. Escobar had been quiet, so there hadn’t been a lot of intel lately, but once there was a break in the case , everyone knew it would snap Murphy right out of his funk. 

Peña leaned back in the driver’s seat of his truck as it rumbled along the uneven dirt roads of the city. He rolled a toothpick between his tongue and his lips as he thought about what he should do next. Since Murphy’s wife left, Murphy had been drinking a lot, not to mention working and eating a lot less. Peña turned the steering wheel with the palm of his hand as an idea came to him. He stopped at his favorite restaurant on the way home. From the counter, he watched them carefully stack enough food for five people into a brown paper bag, paid for it, and when Peña got dinner to the car, he buckled it in like a person just to get it back in one piece. 

Balancing the food in one hand, Peña knocked on Murphy’s door with the other, rapping a rhythm they shared as a safety signal. “Steve, it’s me,” Peña called. A second passed. Hesitating, Peña glanced at the peephole on the door, then at the doorknob. When he tried it, it turned easily in his hand. 

The door swung gently into the apartment and the smell of booze and sweat smacked him in the face. “Jesus, Murphy,” he grunted. He kicked the door shut behind him and slid the huge bag onto the filthy kitchen table, knocking over a handful of beer bottles as he did. Peña straightened his shirt and glanced around. It wasn’t like Murphy to leave the door unlocked. He was probably passed out somewhere. “Murphy?” He called again. 

Peña could hear the sound of running water when he stepped into the bedroom. “Hey, Murphy!” He approached the bathroom door carefully. “You in there?”

“Peña? Fuck, what time is it?” Came a muffled voice behind the door. 

“Like six ‘o clock,” Peña answered. He put his hands on his hips. “Your front door was unlocked.”

The squeak of the faucet sounded as Murphy shut off the shower. Peña heard clumsy footfalls inside. “Shit, was it?” He hesitated. Then, the door opened, and Murphy stood in the doorway soaked to the bone - fully clothed. “What are you doing here, Peña?”

Peña stared at him openly. “What the fuck were you doing, Murphy? Swimming laps in the English channel?”

“Shut up.” Murphy leaned back and grabbed a beer bottle off the bathroom counter and carried it into the bedroom, taking a swig before he began struggling out of his wet clothes. “You didn’t answer me.”

“Checking on you. And judging by the state of things, I’m glad I’m here. Any longer in there and you might have drowned.” Peña stood in the doorway of the bedroom, hands on his hips. “What were you doing, Murphy?”

“Taking a fucking shower, what’s it look like I was doing?”

“Crying in the shower with a watered-down beer.”

Murphy shot Peña a look as he took off his wet shirt and slapped it into the hamper. “I forgot to get undressed first.”

“You’re drunk.” Peña said bluntly.

“So what?” Murphey finished his beer on the dresser. 

This was getting them nowhere. Peña looked away as Murphy unbuckled his belt and kicked out of his wet jeans, which were plastered to his thighs like cellophane. Murphy’s grumbled curses were almost funny. Peña lowered his head. “Get dressed and come sit down. I brought dinner.” He left the room without waiting for a response and went right to the table. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he sighed, and began to clean the table off. He grabbed the trash can and just pushed everything into it except the food bag. 

Murphy came out wearing only sweatpants and a wife beater. His blue eyes were bleary. “My bills were in there,” he pointed out, grinning as Peña grouchily turned back to the trash can and fished them out. “What did you bring?” Murphy asked as he sat down. 

Peña washed his hands in the kitchen sink and wiped them on his jeans on his way back to the table. “Juan’s place. Best food in town.” He opened the bag and carefully parsed out the dishes; soft tacos, pico de gallo, two kinds of fried vegetables and three kinds of meat, along with a heaping of cheese salsa and extra tortillas. The fragrance of fresh food was irresistible. 

“Jesus, did you invite the whole precinct, too?” Murphy made a face as Peña pushed a soda towards him. “Am I outta beer?”

“You don’t need any more.” Peña dropped a fork and a knife next to Murphy’s plate and sat down. “Eat.”

Sighing through his nose, Murphy gave him a look, but Peña was busy serving himself so it went to waste. He begrudgingly opened the soda. “Why are you really here, Peña? We get a break in the case?”

“Awfully presumptive of you.” Peña sipped his soda between bites. “To assume you’re not enough of a mess to justify this intervention.”

“Am I?” Murphy looked at him in surprise. 

“You beat the shit out of a guy at the airport the day your wife left, and you haven’t been sober a day since,” Peña stared at him. “You telling me it gets worse?”

“He was doing lines in the bathroom stall!” Murphy snapped. “I’ve got some kind of dignity, dammit!”

Peña nodded slowly, letting his silence speak for itself. Neither of them moved. Glancing up at his friend, Peña waited.

Murphy put his soda down and sat back. “Sorry.”

“ ‘S okay.” Peña reached out and shook Murphy by the shoulder. “Come on, man. Sober up. Eat.”

“Right.” Flashing Peña a suppressed smile, Murphy picked up his fork and began to eat. They spent most of an hour this way. Peña mentioned some shit about the weather, Murphy grunted a reply, and after some more time went by, Murphy began to act like himself again. They barely made it through half the food Peña had brought before Peña called it quits. 

“Keep it,” Peña said when Murphy tried to pack some up for him. “I know you don’t cook.” Murphy’s blue eyes, now clear and softened by affection, were all the thanks he needed. 

They said their goodnights. Peña went downstairs to his empty apartment, and for the first time in a while he looked around and felt like something was missing. He shrugged it off. A shower and a hooker helped knock the edge off. When she went home and the night was waning, in the darkness and in the sober, sober night, Peña barely managed to fall asleep. 

And when he did get to sleep, he had a strange new kind of dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no idea what I'm doing. just saying

Peña seemed shaken up for the next few days. Murphy, in contrast, showed up to work on time, put in his full hours, and unearthed some new leads, even. As they worked through the leads with local informants, Murphy barely noticed how Peña was avoiding him. No one noticed when Peña began spending more time at the bar than at home. Then suddenly, Peña hadn’t ordered a hooker in over two weeks. He was barely eating. And just as Murphy got back on his feet, Peña somehow seemed to be losing his footing. 

Murphy finally noticed one morning when he showed up late and his partner was nowhere in sight. He put down his coffee and turned around. “Where’s Peña?” He asked one of the guys, who shrugged. A small spark of concern lit in his chest. Murphy sat down at his landline and called Peña at home. It rang and rang, but no one picked up. Murphy slowly put down the receiver. 

When he thought back, he realized that Peña had been acting weird for a while now, except he wasn’t surprised. Peña was sort of a strange guy. If he couldn’t smoke it, drink it, fuck it, or chase it, he wasn’t really interested. It was rare for Peña to reach out to someone the way he often reached out to Murphy to make sure he was okay. Murphy had known Peña to be tender towards women, protective of children, and hostile towards affection, but nothing more. 

Murphy wondered what friends Peña even _had_ besides him. Then he got really worried. If he was Peña’s only friend, then it was up to him to make sure the guy was okay, right? He got up from the desk and left his jacket behind on the chair on his way out the door.

“Where are you going?” Someone called.

“To get Peña,” Murphy said over his shoulder as the doors banged open in his wake. Stepping briefly out of her office, their new boss raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She would prefer to have one detective over none, but if he brought Peña back, that was less work she had to do. She shrugged and went back to her paperwork.

* * *

It was Murphy’s turn to use the safe knock on Peña’s front door. He stood back and waited. It always stank of cigarettes and take-out down here. The place was never dirty, not really, but the man never once opened his damn windows. Would it kill the guy to at least get a plant to filter that shitty air? 

“Peña?” Murphy called. No response. He patted his pockets for that emergency key Peña had given him when they’d been harboring a fugitive and found, to his relief, that his wife had added it to his key ring before she left - probably months ago now. He felt a pang of guilt for having not called her yet. She was the one who’d left. She should call him.

The key clicked open the lock and Murphy pushed the door open, using caution just in case Peña was indecent. But the place was empty. Murphy shut the door behind him. “Peña?” He called again. Every room was clean and untouched. His bed was neatly made, the dishes were all washed, and Peña’s secondary Glock sat untouched on the bed table. It looked like he hadn’t made it home last night. Murphy picked up his pager and sent Peña a message. 

_Where are you?_

Send. Murphy stared at his pager for a minute. No response. Sighing in frustration, he turned to go. Maybe he’d gotten stuck at the bar last night for some reason. His concern was beginning to flourish into fear; the last time something like this had happened, he himself had been kidnapped.

_Peña_ , he thought. _Where the hell are you?_

He stared out the windshield as he turned over the engine to his SUV. Javi was fine. He just got tied up somewhere, that’s all. They didn’t have any strong leads on the case, just little ones, so there was no reason for the narcos to be getting antsy. They’d said their piece to Murphy when Pacho had him kidnapped and brought to his secret mansion. Murphy scowled at the thought. Those bastards lived in luxury while their country was 60% ghettos. Still, there was no good reason to take Javi, so he had to be okay, right?

Murphy put a bit too much pedal to the metal on his way to Javi’s favorite bar, but when he spotted Peña's truck parked there, a wave of relief almost knocked his socks off. He pulled up beside it in the empty dirt lot. Stepping out of his car, Murphy felt his heart sink. It looked empty. He tried the door and it opened in his hand, squeaking loudly. 

A pair of boots dangled out over the edge of the seat. Groaning, Peña rubbed his face and sat up, whacking his head against the steering wheel as he did. “What the fuck?” He swore. He was stretched across the driver’s seat - no doubt having experienced a cramped night’s sleep - and the slender hispanic man winced as he nursed the bump on his forehead. 

“Peña, thank God,” Murphy put his hand on his chest and heaved a relieved sigh. “I thought something happened to you, asshole! Didn’t you hear your pager?”

“I tried to ignore it,” Peña grumbled. He took Murphy’s offered hand and let the other man haul him up right. He leaned heavily back against the seat. His grip on Murphy’s hand was like a vice; he was probably in a lot of pain. “Where am I?”

“The bar.” Murphy studied him closely. “You look like dog shit. Drive you home?”

Peña nodded wordlessly. He was green. Murphy helped him into the SUV and made sure to lock the other man’s truck and pocket the keys. “Hurl out the window if you have to,” Murphy said as he shut the drivers side door and turned the engine over. Javi nodded again. His defined jaw looked strained. 

He’d probably hurl if he opened his mouth, so they drove back in silence. Murphy helped him into his apartment and eased him into bed, where Javi immediately curled up into a ball and shut his eyes. Murphy sat down beside him and pulled up the trash can so it was within reach. “What happened, Peña?” He asked in a low voice.

“Drank too much,” Peña muttered. 

“Yeah, except I’ve never seen you look this bad. What happened? Come on, man.” Murphy grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and covered his friend with it carefully. “Tell me and I’ll let you sleep it off.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll keep pestering you until you hurl.”

“Stop… don’t say that word…”

“What, _hurl?”_ Murphy teased.

Peña groaned in a sickly manner. “Please don't.”

“Tell me, Javi.”

Peña paused for a second, and Murphy thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. Then he heard Peña say something very quietly under his breath. It sounded like, “... _like it when you call me Javi...”_

Murphy blinked. It wasn’t like him to say that kind of shit. He was definitely suffering from minor alcohol poisoning. “You’ve got to drink some water and eat something, or else you’re gonna keel over, amigo,” Murphy said. He got up and went to the kitchen quickly to pour Javi a glass of water. He put some ice in it from the stale freezer, grabbed a box of crackers from the pantry, and made his way back to Peña. “Sit up.”

“No,” Peña grumbled. 

“You’re gonna die, Peña,” Murphy snapped. “Sit up.”

“Please don’t make me…”

Murphy sighed and grabbed an extra pillow to prop Peña up with. “Shut up and drink this.” He pushed the glass of cool water into Peña’s limp hand, which instinctively closed around it. Peña barely had the strength to hold it. Murphy watched him like a hawk as he sipped at it. “All of it.”

Peña grimaced. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, champ.”

“What? Why?”

Peña handed him the glass and leaned over the edge of the bed, puking head-long into the trash can. Murphy looked away and pinched his face at the feral sound of retching. It took a few minutes for the miniscule contents of Peña’s stomach to empty out of him. Then he sat back, propped up, and struggled to catch his breath. “Fuck,” he groused. 

Murphy grabbed a rag off the bed stand and handed it to him. “Now drink.” He added, offering the water.

Peña eyed him as he wiped the sick off his face. “Why do you hate me?”

“If I hated you, I would have left your sorry ass in the cab of your truck to bake in the heat all goddamn day. _Drink,”_ he pressed.

“Fuck,” Peña whispered, taking the glass shakily. He drank from it tentatively until it was empty. Then he shoved it back at Murphy. “Now can you get the fuck out so I can sleep?”

“No way.” Murphy put the glass aside and handed Peña a cracker. “Not until I’m sure you won’t die on me.”

Peña shoved it away. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna tell me how the hell you got so tore up?” Murphy demanded.

Eyes shut, pale but hydrated, Peña put his head back and tried to focus on his breathing. “No. Fuck off.”

Murphy slammed the cracker box onto the bed stand. “Dammit, Javi! Fine.” He got up and brushed his jeans off angrily. “Call me tomorrow if you’re still alive, asshole.” He stalked across the room to the door.

“Steve,” Peña croaked. 

Turning, in the bedroom doorway, Murphy looked back at his friend. “What?” He snapped.

Peña opened his dark, kind eyes and looked at him. “Thanks.”

Murphy softened. His friend looked so frail and vulnerable; how could he be mad? “Sleep it off, Javi,” he mumbled, and left. 

In the quiet darkness of his bedroom, Javier shut his eyes and fell asleep; blissfully, this time he did not dream.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Peña called Murphey just as he was headed out the door. Murphy scrambled to get it before the last ring. “Javi?” He said, cradling the receiver to his cheek.

_“Yeah, it’s me.”_

“You’re alive! You son of a bitch,” Murphy laughed. 

The line crackled as Peña gave a pleased chuckle. _“I’m fine. Murphy… we gotta talk, man.”_

Murphy paused. “Sure thing. What about?”

_“...Come by after work, okay? I’m not coming in today. I can hardly get around my apartment as it is.”_

“Right.” Murphy scratched his forehead pensively with his thumb. “Sure thing. I’ll see you tonight. You’ll be alright alone today?”

_“I’m fine. See you then, Murphy.”_ **Click.**

Staring at the phone, Murphy wondered why he had a bad feeling about what Peña was going to say. He shook it off. It was probably fine. 

He headed off to work like normal, glancing thoughtfully at Peña’s apartment door before he headed out. No one questioned him. They all just assumed Peña was out sick or something. He wondered why no one else was that interested, but realizing what a dick Peña could be, that pretty much solved it. 

Murphy might have been lovesick for the little work he managed to get done that day; he was just waiting for 6 'o'clock to come so that he could satisfy his anxious curiosity about Peña. 

After eight hours of busy work, he clocked out at the speed of light and bolted to his car. He couldn’t quite say why he was so eager to start a conversation that he felt this anxious about, but it might have been his curiosity driving him crazy, his concern for his friend, or just the excitement of a secret about to be revealed to him and him alone. Whatever the reason, Murphy was itching to hear Peña out.

Murphy fumbled to park his car and bee-lined for Peña’s apartment. Then, all of a sudden his heart was struck with a cold icicle of fear. What if something was really wrong with Peña? What if he was sick, or dying or something? He couldn’t move. He looked up. Javi’s door was right there. He was probably fine… right? Murphy’s throat was too dry for him to swallow. He looked down at his shoes. It would explain Peña’s weird behavior if he were coping with some really bad news, wouldn’t it? His stomach turned over at the thought of losing his friend. 

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the door, inches away. He tentatively lifted his hand to use their signature knock. “Peña, it’s Steve,” he added. A pause. Then, he heard the lock turn, and the door opened without Javi’s usual haste. Murphy looked at him expectantly. Peña looked better; there was a little color in his face, and he was mostly dressed, but barefoot, in some old jeans and a grey t-shirt. It was a stark contrast to the usual formality of his button-ups and leather jacket. His hair was a mess, but he smelled like he’d showered and slept all day, so he wasn’t as bad off as Murphy had thought. He was okay, then. Murphy glanced at the counter behind him and spotted his aviators. _There_ was a glimmer of healthy Peña. 

Peña stepped back. “Come on in, Murphy.”

Murphy nodded and obeyed. He stepped into the livingroom and awkwardly stood next to the couch, his hands on his hips. “How you feeling?” He asked, turning to face his friend.

“Better if I ate something. Want a fajita?” Peña shut the door and stepped into the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge, which contained a jar of pickles, a carton of milk, a 6-pack of cheap beer, and a take-out box labeled a few days old. 

“No, thanks. You eat.” Murphy sat on the couch as Peña tossed the fajitas onto a plate and nuked them in the microwave. “So what’s this all about, Peña? You’re not sick or something, right?”

Laughing weakly, Peña crossed his arms and leaned against the counter as he looked out at his friend. “No.”

“Thank God.” Murphy dragged a hand down his face. “I was in a funk all day wondering if you had cancer or some shit.” Peña laughed again, and Murphy shot him a look. “You scared me yesterday,” he said seriously. “What the hell happened to make you drink yourself half to death?”

Peña paled. The microwave beeped loudly and incessantly. He looked away, pulling out the fajitas and setting them on the counter, just staring at them. They were steaming. “I had a lot on my mind,” he said.

Murphy stared at him. “That’s it?”

Quietly, Peña ate. He didn’t look up. “Yeah.” After a second, he pushed the fajitas aside, suddenly disinterested in food again. “Actually…” 

Watching Peña’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard made Murphy even more anxious. He waited with bated breath. 

Peña lowered his head to stare at the counter. “It’s nothing. Nevermind.” He sat down at the kitchen table, avoiding Murphy’s piercing gaze. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped.

“Javi…” Murphy noticed Peña’s fortitude weakened when he used his nickname. “Javi, what’s wrong, man?” He asked softly. “You can tell me - I’m not gonna judge you, I swear.” He hesitated. “Did you get one of your girls pregnant?”

Facade cracking, Peña grinned weakly. “I’d be spitting mad considering the fact that I always use protection and that shit costs, like, a fortune. Someone would be getting their _ass_ sued off.”

“I bet you burn right through that shit,” Murphy joked.

“Yeah.” Peña bit his lower lip, hiding a guilty smile. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

Peña’s deep voice was shockingly soft. “I think I’m in love with you, man.”

Dead silence suffocated them. The floor dropped out from under Murphy and his heart plummeted into the void; he felt lightheaded. “What?” He asked hoarsely, after an extended period of shocked silence. “You... what?”

Sad, vulnerable dark eyes met his own across the room, and Murphy felt them like an arrow piercing the empty rib cage where his heart had been. Peña smiled sadly. “Sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve whispered. “Javi, what…?”

“I had this dream,” Peña began. “That night that I found you drunk in the shower. I went to bed and… we were, you know… anyway, it was like it was fucking real. I could feel everything. Your hair, your clothes, I…” He swallowed. “It was a kind of ecstasy I’d never felt before. I was so afraid to get married eight years ago because there was always something missing - something wrong with the way that I felt about Liv - and I never could figure out what it was, until... I had that dream.” He looked so small, arms crossed, sunk down in the kitchen chair like a teenager. “I could suddenly see everything like it was supposed to be. I experienced our relationship as though it were really happening. It was amazing, Steve. It was… it was perfect.” He rubbed his nose awkwardly. “Weird, huh? Dreams?”

Murphy could see Javi’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and it moved him beyond words. It gave even more credit to everything Peña had just confessed.

“I sat on that dream for a few weeks,” Peña continued. “Didn’t really know what to do with it. But seeing you… every time, it reminded me that… that the dream wasn’t real. We’re both still alone. I’m still alone. All of a sudden… I couldn’t look at anybody else, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at you, either.” He glanced up at Murphy nervously. “I guess I couldn’t cope.”

“You certainly tried,” Murphy managed.

Peña nodded absently. “That I did.”

Murphy sat back and looked at him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice. You’re my best friend, Javi, I should have noticed.”

“No, Steve… I would have been mortified.” Peña cracked a smile. “I had to work up to this, so... it’s fine.” He sighed slowly through his nose. “Anyway, I figured I owe you an explanation, I just couldn’t really get it out last night. Alcohol poisoning, you know. But that’s it, so… you can stay or go, whatever is fine.” 

Murphy stared at Peña as he struggled to get back up and went back to the fajitas on the counter. He was still reeling. It was probably a good idea to leave before he said something that he was gonna regret. He stood up and his vertigo made him stumble a bit, but thankfully Peña wasn’t looking. He patted his pockets as he regained his footing. Then, hesitating, he looked up again. “You really went through all that - for me, I mean?” He asked in confusion.

Peña looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “I guess I did.”

“Huh.” They regarded each other quietly for a minute, then Murphy looked away, feeling weird. “I’m gonna go. You can, uh… call me if you need anything, I guess.”

“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” Murphy replied absently.

He climbed the steps to his apartment in a daze. Javi, in love with him? Who the hell thought _that_ was a good idea? He almost smacked headlong into his door before he realized it was locked and he needed a key to open it. Fumbling with his keys, he barely got inside, and locked it behind him defensively. Love… what the fuck? Two crude bachelors, one of which still being married, in a relationship? What would that even be like? He shook his head and went through his normal evening routine; shower, shave, dinner, TV… except he couldn’t focus. All he could hear was Peña’s soft confession, and all he could see were those big dark eyes looking at him from across the room - begging him not for reciprocation, but for forgiveness.

-

The next day, Peña was back at work. He was still a bit weak but he wanted to get back to their leads, so he put his nose to the grindstone, so to speak. The button-up, leather jacket, and aviators were all back, so Murphy felt less inclined to worry about him. Still, there was something about seeing his friend look so pale that really got to him. He’d done a lot of damage to himself over this whole love thing. It was technically Murphy’s fault that he was in this state, and that sucked. Just being near him was hurting his friend.

It was sort of nice to have Peña toned down at work, considering his usual abrasive nature, but it also served as a reminder that the other night had... happened. Murphy couldn’t get away from the confession. It played on a loop in his head. Peña even avoided eye contact with Murphy; probably because it was on a loop in his head, too. Even when they managed to talk, it made Peña hesitate. Murphy could see the wheels in his head turning and grinding. _How do I do this without sounding like a teenage girl?_ was the constant expression plastered all over his face. It was half hilarious, and half really depressing. 

Murphy tried to give him a little space at lunch. He went to a new spot, which was a little hole-in-the-wall across town. He nursed a beer over a plate of fajitas but he wasn’t hungry. He was still messed up inside. Sighing, he motioned for the waiter to wrap his food up to go, and went to the pay phone in the corner. Then he dialed his wife at her sister’s house in Miami. It rang softly for a minute before his wife answered. 

_“Hello?”_ She said, and his heart clenched up in his chest.

“Hey, Connie,” Murphy said, cradling the phone. “It’s me.”

_“Steve… I’m so sorry. I should have called.”_

Nodding, Murphy glanced at his table as the waiter left a box by his plate and walked off. “I was worried.”

_“I know. I’m sorry.”_

“Connie…” Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I miss you.”

_“I miss you too. But I’m not coming back there, Steve. I can’t.”_

Steve hesitated. “Not even to visit?”

_“No.”_ Connie’s sigh came through as static on the line. _“Not even to visit.”_

“But I’m welcome to visit anytime, right?” Steve asked quietly.

_“Don’t say it like that.”_

“Right… How’s Olivia?”

_“Good. My sister loves her. She’s been crawling like crazy.”_

Steve smiled. “I wish I could be there to see it.”

_“Me, too. Steve… I want you to come home.”_

“I know.”

_“But you won’t do it.”_

“... I can’t, Connie. My work is here.”

_“Right.”_ Sigh static came through again. _“This isn’t working. Maybe we should take a break.”_

“What?” Steve stood up straighter. “What do you mean?”

_“I mean we should take a break, Steve. You have your work, I have Olivia… I don’t know for how long. It’s not like there’s anyone else. I just think… maybe this is best. For now.”_

Steve stared at the wall. “You do?” He asked dubiously.

_“I mean, don’t go slutting around a whore house or anything, but… yeah. I mean we can just take some time apart, you know? I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”_

“No.” Steve bit his lip. “You sure about this?”

_“I am. And… I’ll call you next time. Okay, Steve?”_

“Okay. I love you.”

_“I love you, too. Bye, Steve.”_ **Click**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beelzebubsart@tumblr.com

Murphy sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He heard Peña approach, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. “Murphy?” Peña said. “What is it?” Murphy didn’t answer. A warm hand rested on his shoulder. “Steve?”

“Did you know only you, Connie, and my parents call me Steve?” Murphy said finally. “I knew a couple guys back in Miami, but… none of them ever called me Steve. It was always Murphy.”

Peña hesitated. He was probably holding something back for Murphy’s sake. “You called Connie?”

Steve dragged his hands down his face and sighed deeply. “Yeah.”

“What did she say?” Peña sat down across from him, his arms folded on the desk.

Steve couldn’t look at him. “She wants to take a break.”

Peña nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Thanks.” Murphy pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I want to see her and Olivia, I have to fly back to Miami.”

“And she’ll probably make you stay if you do.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Peña sighed through his nose and sat back, crossing his arms. “So you’re single.”

Cracking a smile, Steve glanced up at him. “Bastard.” They laughed a little, and Steve sat back, running his hands through his hair pensively. “Should have expected that.”

“Well, my door is open,” Peña said innocently. “If you need, you know, any comforting or something.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious,” Peña teased. “Any time of the day or night, I’m there.”

“Shut up,” Steve chimed.

“Emotional support, psychological support, I’m kinda lacking in the spiritual area but I can certainly compensate with the psychical side of things-”

“I get it,” Steve laughed. “Stop!”

Peña raised both hands in surrender. “Just saying.”

“That’s what friends are for, huh?”

Pretending to look insulted, Javi gave him a look. “We’re friends! What ulterior motives could I possibly have?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grinned. His heart certainly felt a bit lighter; it was nice to banter a little. He bit his lip and glanced up at Peña, who was doing paperwork again. “Hey,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to make things less… weird… for you?”

Peña didn’t look up. “Don’t worry about me, Murphy. I’m not sixteen anymore - I can handle myself.”

Murphy nodded, but all he could think about was what Peña looked like passed out in the cab of his truck, half dead, with one foot in the grave and three feet on a banana peel. 

* * *

As time went on, what Peña had said about comfort became more and more appealing. Murphy was on edge. He couldn’t sleep that well anymore, not without Connie, and the prospect of her not being his wife loomed over him every day. He missed her. He missed his daughter. Mostly, he missed human contact. The best he’d had was that shoulder touch Peña had given him the last time they’d discussed Connie, and that was kinda sad. 

Murphy had a day off for once. Peña didn’t, of course, because apparently there had to be at least one American idiot on the premises at any given moment, so it was just Murphy trying to find shit to do. He took a drive. He ate weird food at a lone vendor on a hidden back road. Unusual for him, but he even went outside the city limits and sat on a mountain for a few hours. When he finally made it back home, it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. What better time to get drunk?

Taking two shots of whiskey to start, Murphy sat in front of the television and didn’t move until sunset. There was nothing on. Mostly, he just tuned it out and thought about Connie, who hadn’t called for two weeks, and Olivia, who would probably be walking soon and he was going to miss it. But Connie said she’d call. So he waited. 

By six o’clock, he was wasted, depressed, and itching for conversation. He picked up the phone and dialed Peña. It rang for about five minutes before he gave up. He probably wasn’t back from work yet now that he thought about it; still, that didn’t stop him from paging him a dozen times and calling three more times before Peña finally picked up.

_ “Steve? What the hell’s wrong?” _ Peña sounded winded.

Murphy made a face at the floor. “Nothing, why?”

_ “You sent me five pages for no reason?” _

“I had a reason.”

_ “Oh, yeah? For a beer run?” _

“Actually, now that you mention it-”

_ “Dammit, Steve!” _ Peña sighed like a crackle of electricity over the line. _ “You’re okay, at least?” _

“Completely.” Steve hesitated.

_ “What’s wrong, Steve?”  _ Peña asked with thin patience.

“Can I come over?” Steve mumbled.

_ “S-Sure. Just… give me ten minutes, would you?” _

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” Steve hung up and heaved himself off the couch. How was he going to get down the stairs? He looked at the spinning room in bemusement. This was kinda fun. Javi was rushing to clean his place after a long day at work and here comes his drunk-ass friend to blubber on his couch. Grinning at the thought, Murphy pushed his keys into his pocket and headed for the door, itching to annoy his best friend.   
  
  
  


When he made it into the hallway, the stairs looked like they went on forever. Grabbing the railing, Steve swung one leg down and secured his spot on the second stair, dragging the other one to follow. He stumbled and almost fell head-long down the concrete landing. Thankfully, his instincts kept a firm grip on the railing. This time. To Steve, every stair was a different obstacle, which gave Peña about twenty minutes to get his life together before he heard a knock at his front door. 

When the door opened, Peña was fresh from the shower with his wet hair combed back away from his face and a flush in his cheeks. He smelled like cheap shampoo and deodorant. His white shirt was askew and he was wearing the same worn jeans as before. “Murphy?” He stepped back as Murphy stepped inside, his drunk friend finally getting the hang of his sea legs. “You’re wasted,” Peña laughed. 

“That I am.” Steve grinned. “So tell me, Javi,” he said, sinking down onto the man’s couch. “You work hard today?”

“I worked something.” Peña padded across the room barefoot and notched up the air conditioner. “I can’t afford to run this damn thing when I’m not in here - sorry it’s so warm.”

It  _ was  _ pretty stuffy. Murphy felt the pricke of sweat on his back. “Why don’t you just crack a window?” He asked.

Peña gave him a look. “And give the snipers a chance?”

Murphy laughed. “Paranoid.”

“Drunk.”

“Fair enough.” Steve blew a sigh. “Sorry for barging in. I couldn’t sit there in the dark anymore.”

“It’s okay.” Peña sat on the other end of the couch, giving them a good two feet of distance, and cracked open a beer. He offered it to Steve. “Give me a second and I’ll catch up.” They paused to take a long sip from their beers, and Peña put his head back on the couch. “You have lights in your apartment, you know.”

Steve shrugged. “No point. Nothing to do after the sun goes down except drink and sleep.”

“Sure, but it’s less depressing than sitting in the dark,” Peña pointed out. When Steve didn’t reply, he took another swig of his beer and looked over at him. “You look tired, Steve.”

“I  _ am  _ tired.” Steve nursed his beer.

“Can’t sleep?” 

“Not really.”

“Right.” Peña sipped his beer. “Anything I can do?”

Steve shook his head. “This is good enough.”

“Okay.” Peña chugged his beer all of a sudden, and Murphy stared at him as he put the bottle aside and got up to get another one. “Told you I have to catch up,” Peña said. He popped the cap off another beer from the fridge, which was now filled with beer, and sat back down. “Are you drunk enough to answer a personal question?” He asked between sips. 

Thinking for a second, Murphy gave a confident nod. “Definitely.”

“Alright then.” Steady, tan hands changed the bottle from one to the other so Peña could lean his elbow on the arm of the couch and use it to prop up his head. “You ever been with a guy?”

“Nope. One tried to kiss me in college, though.” Murphy smirked. “He had good taste.”

Peña nodded slowly. “You ever want to try it?”

Murphy shrugged. “When I was younger and anything was fuckable? Maybe.”

“I remember those days.” Peña chuckled. “I slept with a guy in high school just ‘cause. Never really thought about it much after that. I probably should have.”

“Oh yeah? Who was on top?”

“We took turns.”

Murphy burst into a fit of giggles. 


	5. Chapter 5

Peña, grinning, downed the last of his beer and got up to get another one. “Why are you single?” Steve demanded. “Stud like you.”

“I’m the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, I guess.” Peña squinted as he picked a third beer. He was probably beginning to feel a good buzz coming after his fifth one, so he picked up two more and walked back to the couch with them. “The ladies can only tolerate me for a day, and fags are out this year.” He popped the cap on his third and took one long swig.

“You don’t have to love ‘em and leave ‘em,” Murphy mumbled. 

“I’m used to it. Another beer?”

“I’m actually feeling like hurling right about now.” 

Peña kicked over the trash can. “Be my guest.”

“Nah, I’ll hold it.” Steve put down his beer awkwardly and sank down into the couch, his arms spread out over the back of it. He bobbed his knees back and forth. “You’re lonely. Maybe it’s time to settle down, Javi. Pick somebody.” 

Sighing, Peña put down his third empty bottle. “It’s not that easy. You should know that - you got Connie.”

“Yeah. It was sort of a whirlwind thing for us. We’ve been swept up in it for a few years now, but being separated…” Murphy sniffed. “I think she’ll probably find someone else.”

“Don’t say that. She loves you.”

“I know.” Steve stared at the floor. “But…”

Peña watched him furtively. “But?”

“We’re not right, I don’t think,” Steve said quietly. “She didn’t want this life.”

“She knew who she was marrying.”

“Women change when they have a child to protect. I mean… men change too, normally. Not me. I wanted to keep chasing that fox.”

“Escobar?”

“Yeah. Escobar.”

A knowing silence stretched. Peña cradled a cold beer in his hands for relief against the warm air; in the corner, the air conditioner struggled to keep up with their rising body heat. Steve glanced over at Peña and caught him staring. He looked away, but there was concern in his eyes. Steve watched him awkwardly clear his throat and roll the cold bottle between his palms. He stared at Javi. How was he going to say this?

“Javi?” Murphy said.

“Hm?” Peña didn’t look up from the bottle. 

“You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I  _ do  _ love you, you know.”

Javi looked up at him suddenly. “What?”

Steve flushed. “You heard me.”

Peña was turning red. Steve reached out and put a hand on his knee tenderly, and their eyes met. “What do you want from me, Steve?” Javi asked softly. 

“I… don’t know.” Steve admitted. “What do you want, Javi?”

“You know what I want. Don’t,” Javi warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Murphy.”

Steve turned his hand palm-up. “Take it.” 

“Murphy…”

“Do it.”

Sighing, Peña threaded their fingers together and held his hand with an iron grip. Steve could feel his thready heartbeat racing. His tan face was beet red. 

“Peña. Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Do what you've been wanting to do for a month.”

Peña stared at him. Barely restrained emotion showed in his expression, but he still hesitated. “You’re drunk.”

Steve stared him down. “Kiss me, Peña.”

“Fuck,” Peña whispered. “Fine. But you better not be pissed tomorrow.”

Smiling, Steve chuckled. “Promise.”

“Jesus. Okay, alright. Okay.” Javi sat up and moved closer to Steve, watching him carefully just in case this was a joke or he changed his mind at the last second, no doubt. He was so… afraid. It was weird to see him this way. Steve felt a warm hand on his cheek, so he raised his own hand once Javi was an inch away and slid it onto the back of Javi’s neck so that he couldn’t chicken out. “Fuck,” Javi swore under his breath. “Give me a break, would you?” His breath smelled like beer and toothpaste. 

Steve looked at him with bedroom eyes, so Peña just kissed him. Sparks of surprise and excitement filled Steve’s chest. Javi’s lips were strong and hungry, and their mustaches prickled together, giving a strange sensation to an already strange kiss. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was pretty nice. It reminded Steve that Javi was hot and that he was really, really horny. He pushed his fingers into Javi’s damp hair and deepened the kiss, tasting him.

Peña, shocked, kissed him in a daze. Steve felt warm hands on his throat and his waist. His eyes were shut, but he wished he could see the arch of Javi’s back as he pushed Murphy back onto the couch and knelt over him. Steve could barely catch his breath. He put his hands on Javi’s body and it was like he’d known how to do this all his life. His fingers slid beneath the white t-shirt. He hungrily felt the smooth flesh there; the soft stomach, the narrow hips, the dip of his waist; at the brush of denim on his fingertips, he worked his way to the button of Javi’s jeans and undid them. He could barely focus when Javi sank his teeth into Murphy’s throat. The sensation was dizzying. A hard-on sprung against the fly of his pants. 

Impatiently, Steve pulled off Javi’s shirt, touching his chest as Javi ran his hands over his own. Seeing Peña in heat was mesmerizing. His messy, wavy brunette hair; his flushed face; the lust in his eyes, and in his touch; the heaving of his chest as he panted for air; Steve was in a trance. They kissed again. Steve pushed his hand down the front of Javi’s jeans and palmed his hard-on, making the other man moan. It was a vulnerable, needy sound. 

This was the first time Steve had ever touched another man this way. He knew just what worked. Steve rubbed Javi tenderly, putting a hand on the back of Javi’s head as he hid his face and his hips moved on their own to grind into his hand. Stabs of lust plagued Steve’s genitals. He was shaking. He wanted Javi to fuck him -  _ now. _

Suddenly, Peña drew back to look at him, and the worry in his eyes was real. “Steve?” He said. “What is it?”

“Why did you stop?” Steve panted.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Steve looked at his free hand. It was trembling hard. He wiped his face with it, frustrated and confused. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

Javi carefully took Murphy’s hand out of his jeans and sat up. “I’m sorry - it’s my fault. I let you get carried away.”

“No - I  _ wanted _ you to - I -” Steve took a shuddering breath and covered his face with his hands. “I need water.”

“Right.” Peña jogged to the kitchen and brought back a glass of tap water. He helped Steve sit up and handed it to him. When he’d taken a few sips, he put a hand on Steve’s thigh. “What  _ was _ all that?” He asked, sounding just as confused as Steve felt.

Murphy shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t control it.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.” Steve said softly, looking up at him. “We almost fucked.”

Javi motioned to his shirtlessness and his unbuttoned jeans. “Well, it wasn’t me this time!”

Sighing, Steve focused on his shaking hands. “I know. It was me.” He swore. “I’ve been pent-up since Connie left.”

“I’m not complaining. But, Steve…” Peña studied him. “Can you honestly say you’d be okay with this in the morning?”

Steve looked into his eyes and wished that he could drown in them. “No.” 

Peña nodded slowly. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. It’s okay if you need to stop for tonight.”

“Yeah…” Finishing the glass of water, Steve put it aside and turned back to Javi. The room was spinning again. He felt like he was going to fall to pieces for some reason and it must’ve shown on his face.

_ “Fuck _ , Steve,” Peña whispered. He put his arm around Steve’s neck and hugged him tightly. “It’s okay - seriously.”

Steve locked his arms around Javi’s waist and hid his face in his shoulder. He was still shaking. “I don’t know,” he trembled. “I don’t know…” 

“You’re drunk. It’s okay.” 

“Javi… I’m sorry, man…”


	6. Chapter 6

Steve rose from sleep as though he were floating to the top of a swimming pool and into the hot August sun. When the surface tension broke and the dream was over, he sucked in a deep, life-saving breath, and his eyes fluttered open. He winced. His head was pounding like a jackhammer behind his eyes. Rubbing the sleep from his face, he realized that he wasn’t at home. He froze. The sheets were different. The blanket was thinner. He focused on the smell - cheap deodorant, cheap shampoo, cigarettes - it was familiar, like an old friend. 

Friend… Peña? 

Oh. _Fuck._

Covering his face with his hands, the memories of last night rushing back to him, Murphy wondered if he should just kill himself now or make it look like an accident later. He couldn’t _believe_ what he’d done last night. Lonely enough to try and fuck his best friend? Jesus _Christ_. There was no way he was getting out of this one without lasting scars. He peeked out from behind his fingers to see the bed next to him was empty and neatly made. Thank God Peña wasn’t there to witness this.

Murphy sighed. He had to get up eventually. May as well be now. Groaning, he sat up and waited until the room stopped spinning to swing his legs out of the bed and try to stand. He stumbled a bit but he could keep upright if he focused hard enough. Man, did his head hurt. When he opened the bedroom door, Peña was standing in the kitchen fully dressed for work, nursing a brown mug of coffee and a cigarette. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and the two men froze. 

Murphy turned scarlet. 

Peña was stalled out like a truck engine. His eyes flitted to his coffee and then back to Steve. “Coffee?” He managed.

“Please.” Steve clenched and unclenched his hands several times to relieve a bit of stress before he braved the kitchen. Fuck, this was awkward. Peña met him in the doorway and handed him a worn white mug of strong-smelling coffee. Their fingers brushed as Steve accepted it. “Thanks,” he murmured, stepping aside as Peña passed him to the living room. 

“Sit down, Steve,” Peña said softly. 

“Give me a second.”

“No,” Peña pressed. “Now.” Frustrated, humiliated, Murphy sat. He rigidly sipped his coffee and refused to look at Peña, who was staring him down. “We need to talk about this before anybody gets any ideas. Okay?” Peña said.

“Right.” 

“Look at me, Steve.”

“No way.”

“You were wasted, Steve. You’ve been having a rough time since Connie left, and I know what happened last night was a combination of those two things.” Peña leaned forward, cradling his coffee mug in both hands. “I don’t expect it to happen again. I’m not mad about it, either, but I don’t want you to think that you can’t come to me when this shit happens to you.”

“I can’t,” Steve whispered. He was shaking again, dammit. “Not again.”

Peña stared at him hard. “I won’t let it get that far again. I promise you _right now_ that this will not happen again.”

“Why did you let it happen last night?” Steve asked sharply, finally looking up. His blue eyes were cold and hard. 

“I was in shock.” Peña’s voice was rising. “I was trying to help.”

“Letting me make a fool of myself was _helping?”_

“I did what you told me to do!” Peña snapped. 

“I was drunk.”

“You begged me, Steve.”

_“No I didn’t.”_

Peña sighed in angry frustration. “Steve, don’t try to tell me what happened last night - I was _sober._ You were gone. _Far_ gone.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Murphy. “But don’t you dare say that I took advantage of you. Not even once. Don’t even think about it. Because you and I both know _damn_ well that’s not what happened.”

Steve struggled to control his shaking hand as he sipped his coffee. “Fine.”

“Good.” Peña finished his coffee and put the mug aside. “When you start feeling like yourself, let me know. Until then, don’t fucking bring it up again. I’m not above kicking your ass when you’re like this.” He got up. “Stay here, go home, I don’t care. Just... get your fuckin’ shit together, Steve.” He went to leave and hesitated just behind the couch, biting his lip. Something passed across his face briefly. Sighing, he put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed it once, hard. “Take it easy, would you?” 

Steve nodded. His throat tight but he hurriedly cleared it before Peña shut the door. “Javi,” he called, but he didn’t look up. He heard Peña wait. “I’m sorry.”

Peña nodded. “I know.” Then he shut the door behind him and left, flipping open his aviators and sliding them on as he headed to the garage for his truck. He would leave the subject for later, probably reliving the memories of last night in a very different light than Steve was. Steve was almost jealous.

Murphy, sitting alone in Javi’s apartment, put his coffee down and bent over his knees, folding his arms into a pillow for his forehead. He had no idea what was happening to him, but Javi was a good friend. He shouldn’t blame him for this shit. Steve took a deep breath and sat up, and when he looked down at his hands, they had finally stopped shaking. 

* * *

Murphy showed up for work two hours late showered, dressed, and calm. He and Peña acted as though nothing had happened; they worked a few leads, got a few shitty tip-line calls, gave up on life more than once, and by the end of the day they were both exhausted. They had nothing. Escobar had been loose in Medellin for weeks and they weren’t getting any closer to him. Before they left, Peña asked the CIA to do a few fly-overs in a different area of the city, and headed for the door. When he stepped outside he spotted Murphy smoking a cigarette and leaning against his truck. He approached him thoughtfully. Putting a cigarette between his lips, he tried for his lighter but found it missing from its normal place in his back pocket.

Wordlessly, Steve held out the lighter and flicked it so a small flame appeared. Peña eyed him before he bent to light the end of his cigarette with it. “You’re feeling better,” Peña commented after a deep inhale. Smoke filled the space between them. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“I mean it.”

Peña blew smoke at him. “You didn’t mean it before?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. I feel like I blacked out or something.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I _am_ worried about it,” Steve argued. He went to say something else but he gave up, looking away as he took a drag of nicotine. A dark cloud was forming over his head. “I feel like,” he began, “something, some part of me, really wanted what happened.”

“And the other part of you was scared shitless.” Peña nodded slowly. “Now you know how I felt.”

“You?” Steve looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You were in heaven last night, bastard.”

Peña shrugged. “You remember those few weeks when I beat the hell out of myself. It takes time. You gotta cope.”

Steve watched Peña lift the cigarette to his lips and remembered vividly what it felt like to kiss him. The taste. The texture. He shivered. Yeah, he was scared shitless right now. 

Peña looked at him. “If you ever change your mind - which you’re allowed to do, by the way - my door is always open. You know that.” Javi glanced away. “I’m not pushing. I’m just here. And like I said… if you don’t want it to happen again, it won’t.”

“I know.” Steve sighed smoke through his nose. 

“Good.” Peña smirked. “And now that I know you love me, I’ll be using that as blackmail until one of us dies.”

“Ah, _fuck-”_

“Ho _ho_ , you thought I forgot, huh?” Peña cackled. 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbled.

* * *

A week went by, and then two. Steve tried not to think about that night, but he failed miserably. It was always on his mind. Connie had called once to update him about Olivia, which was nice, and he’d heard her blubbering in the background. The sound of Connie’s voice soothed him. Still… the nagging desire to kiss his best friend left him with residual guilt after she hung up. He drank a little. Slept a bit - not nearly enough. The last good night sleep he had was at Javi’s place, which didn’t help. But Peña was his old self again. Joking, prying, laughing; he seemed to be fine, but Steve knew that he was just waiting. Thinking Steve was coming around eventually for round two. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Then, When Peña was out on a few bad tips from the tip line, a call came over the radio when Murphy was doing paperwork. Officer down. Shots fired. Steve felt an icy hand grip his heart. Grabbing his jacket, he ran from the building like a bat outta hell. He tore through the streets in his SUV like his ass was on fire. When he got on the scene, there was a crowd surrounding a narrow alleyway alongside a butcher shop. Steve pushed his way through them and passed the officers on crowd control, heading right for the man on the ground. It was Javi. His heart dropped into his shoes. 

Another cop was kneeling beside him. He looked up when he saw Murphy. “Can you stay with him? I have to help Rodrigez,” he said.

“Go, go,” Steve said, taking his place as soon as he bolted. 

“Steve?” Peña managed. “Where the hell did you come from?”

There was blood everywhere. Steve gave him a once-over. “Where are you hit?” 

“Clipped my side. I’m fine, Steve.” Peña struggled to sit up. “Knocked me over the head with something and shot at me while he was running off. Some kid - not Escobar’s guys.” Murphy glanced at the crowbar and back at Peña, who was bleeding from a head wound _and_ a gunshot wound. His heart was pounding out of his chest. Peña grimaced and put a hand over his wound. “I’m fine, Steve. Breathe.”

“I’m supposed to be telling _you_ that.” Sirens approached them, and Murphy helped Peña stand up so they could get him in the ambulance. “Want me to go with you?” Steve asked as they loaded him in. 

“Go do my paperwork for me,” Javi joked. “I’ll see you later.”

Murphy stood back as they shut the doors to the ambulance, hands on his hips, and paced the blood-stained area where Peña had been lying. He had never been so scared in all his life. Peña had been shot before, but that call that came over the radio had nearly turned his hair white. He got back in his car. There was blood all over his hands. He stared at them for a minute, letting his pulse return to normal, but it wouldn’t. He wiped his hands on a rag and wanted to drive back to work, but his hands were shaking so badly that he just sat there for thirty minutes trying to calm down.

* * *

That night, after Peña got home from the hospital, he called Murphy. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey,” he said. “They sent me home. I’m good.”

_“Good, I’m glad.”_

“You, uh, wanna talk about anything?”

Steve hesitated. _“Why?”_

Peña shrugged, scrubbing the blood from underneath his fingernails. “You kinda freaked out.”

_“You got shot!”_

“Steve.”

_“I… freaked out. Sorry.”_

“Wanna tell me why?” Peña asked slowly.

_“I don’t know why.”_

“Okay.”

_“... What?”_

Peña sighed, drying his hands on a towel. “Never mind. See you tomorrow, okay?” Silence. “Steve?” Peña frowned. “Hello?” He looked up as someone used their signature knock on his front door. He put down the receiver, confused, but when he answered the door it was Murphy, leaning heavily on the doorframe and slightly out of breath.


	7. Chapter 7

Peña blinked. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“I freaked  _ way  _ out,” Murphy blurted. He stepped past Peña into the apartment, ignoring the confused look on his face, and began to pace the threshold. “I was shaking like a leaf - just like that night -”

“Murphy,” Peña held up his hand and shut the door with the other. “Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Steve blurted. “Look at me!” He stood still, and Peña saw that he was shaking again. Steve held out his hands to show him how bad it was but it wouldn’t stay still. “I sat in that parking lot for half an hour, waiting for it to stop, and eventually I just had to drive like this. I almost crashed a dozen times!”

Peña’s lips parted in surprise. “Steve…”

Murphy motioned vaguely to the bandage visible beneath Peña’s shirt and the one on the back of his head, unable to explain himself, and began to pace again. He ran his trembling hands through his hair. “I can’t stop - I can’t -”

Peña grabbed him by his arms and held him still, pushing him back against the wall when he tried to struggle. “Steve, stop.” He waited patiently until Steve had stopped struggling defensively and was actually looking at him. His blue eyes were wild. “It’s okay to be scared when this shit happens,” Javi said gently. “Just admit it to yourself.”

“What are you, a shrink?”

“Just listen to me, okay?”

“Fine.” Murphy swallowed hard. “I’m... scared,” he forced.

Peña studied his face. “Now tell me why.”

“I don’t -”

_ “Steve.” _

“Because I can’t lose you!” Murphy snapped.

Swallowing, Peña nodded. “Because you love me.”

Steve sighed in frustration. “Yeah.” He was still shaking. He grabbed onto Peña’s arms that were holding him back, gripping onto them for support. “What do I do?”

“I’m not gonna leave you, Steve.” Javi waited until Steve looked him in the eye again. “I mean it.”

Speechless, Steve just stared at him, the gears in his head grinding as he tried to figure shit out.

Peña squeezed his arms with a comforting pressure. “I know Connie left. She took your daughter, and you’re alone - probably for the first time in a while, right?” 

Murphy nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Peña leaned towards him. “I promise not to leave you alone.”

Slowly, Steve’s trembling ebbed, fading away. His heart rate evened out. He stared at Javi. “How did you know that shit would work?”

“How do you think?”

“Right, but… seriously?”

“Seriously.” Peña let go of Steve’s arms and pulled him into an embrace. “Would you chill out, please?”

“Yeah.” Steve flushed, wrapping his arms around his friend. He carefully avoided the gunshot bandage on his waist. The familiar feeling of his arms brought the emotions of that night flooding back to him; Javi’s lips, his hair, his clothes… He knew  _ exactly  _ how Peña had felt before. Even worse, his memories were  _ real _ . Steve shut his eyes and clung to Javi tightly. “Sorry, he said quietly.

“Quit apologizing. I love you, man. It’s my job.” Javi smiled into Murphy’s hair. “Idiot.” He let him go and held him at arm’s length, making sure he was really okay this time. Soft concern showed in his eyes. “You wanna stay here tonight?”

Steve turned scarlet. “I, uh…”

Peña rolled his eyes. “Relax, would you? I got shot. I have a concussion. I won’t be fucking anybody for a while.”

Sighing in relief, Steve nodded, putting his hands on his hips. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Nodding, Peña motioned to the fridge. “Get you a beer?”

Steve cracked a smile. “Sure.” Peña shot him a smile and stepped into the kitchen, leaving Steve to his recent revelation for a second. Murphy looked down at his hands. They were as still as pond water.

* * *

A few days went by. Murphy came by Peña’s apartment every day after work while he was recovering to shoot the shit and drink beer. They didn’t mention their unspoken bond, the weird romantic tension, or the fact that they’d gotten comfortable spending most of their time together. Sometimes, Steve slept on the couch. Sometimes, he passed out lying next to Javi in bed, sharing a cigarette. But they didn’t touch.

Their conversations had evolved from just slinging shit at each other to genuinely affectionate banter. It felt like they were already married in some ways. Steve, a bit jaded from his experience with Connie, sometimes deflected Peña’s affection instead of reciprocating it, but he was getting better. Peña knew it wasn’t going to be perfect overnight. Still, the pinnacle of their relationship was something Javi carried around with him every day, in the form of the first dream he’d had about them being together. He’d had a few more since then, but he always woke detached from them. This was not something he could rush. And he wouldn’t push Steve. That’s not how he wanted things to be. When Steve was ready, he could come to him.

And he did. When the bandage came off and Javi was healed, Steve showed up at his door with a bottle of whiskey and a grin. Javi felt like something was different this time. He stepped back to let him in, and the way Steve came at him was completely new. He drew closer, laughed harder, and he even finally started to meet Peña’s eyes now and then without reservation. 

Javi was cautious; Steve wasn’t drunk this time, but he didn’t know for sure that this was different. But if it was... he was ready. 

* * *

Murphy and Peña took one shot of whiskey each and put down their shot glasses. Murphy sat back, grinning at his friend. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, and I got a new scar, look.” Peña smirked from the couch as he lifted his shirt to show off the purple mark on his otherwise smooth tan side.

Steve nodded in appreciation. He was sitting in a kitchen chair across the room. “You got more?” 

“Sure do. Maybe I’ll show you someday.” Peña put his shirt back down and grinned over the lip of a beer bottle. “When you’re ready.”

Steve chuckled and sipped his beer. “You didn’t need me hanging around here at all, did you?”   
  


“What made you think that I did?” Peña teased.

“I knew it.” Steve laughed self-consciously. “You just wanted me to get used to you, huh?”

Peña smiled at him knowingly. “Did it work?”

Nodding, Steve studied him. “Yeah.” He smirked and looked down at his beer. “I've been thinking.”

“...About?”

“This.” Steve bit his lip when he looked up. “Us.”

Peña held his breath. “And?”

Steve was blushing. “I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you fuckin’ with me?”

Murphy shook his head slowly. “Nope.”

Peña released the breath he’d been holding. “Does that mean…?”

Steve put down his beer. He got up, fixing his jeans, and went to stand by the couch, looking down at his friend as he did. There was a vulnerability in his body language that endeared Javi. His blue eyes were soft. “It means I have no idea what we do from here.”

Staring up at him, Peña reached out and put his beer aside. Then he touched Steve’s leg lightly. “Sit. No,” he said when Murphy tried to sit across the couch from him. “Sit with me, Steve.” 

He watched his friend nervously ease down to sit thigh-to-thigh with him. Steve rubbed the legs of his jeans with anxious hands. The tips of his ears were red. The smell of cigarettes and off-brand cologne touched Peña’s nose as he sat studying him; the press of Steve’s body beside him was warm and comforting. It felt good to be close to someone again. Peña’s heart was pounding hard against his ribcage - probably because he’d been dreaming about this for a long time. Reaching up, he spread his hand on Steve’s back, pressing his fingertips into the tense flesh there. The soft texture of his shirt rippled as Javi’s touch passed slowly back and forth across it. Peña smiled sheepishly. “You can do what you want, you know.”

“I know.” Steve didn’t move. He pressed his palms together in his lap and stared at them, just soaking in the sensation of being touched. “This is still... weird for me.”

“Right. Well… let’s make it a bit easier.” Javi sat up and pressed his shoulder against Steve’s. Then Javi moved to brush his knuckles against Steve’s, flashing the small tattoo on the soft inside of his hand by his thumb. “Look at me.”

“Javi…” 

“Steve.”

Sighing through his nose, Steve glanced at him, his eyes flitting to Javi’s lips before their eyes met. He was so close. Peña could smell the beer on his breath. Leaning in close, Peña tilted his head a little and waited until Steve mustered up the confidence to kiss him. It took him a second, but he got it. Javi felt a flood of endorphins as Steve’s lips touched his. This time, the kiss was different. It was tender and gentle, even slow, in comparison to the feverish first kiss they’d shared before. They sat carefully kissing for a few minutes, pausing only to breathe before starting up again, but Steve pulled back a little. “I need a second.”

Peña grinned. “I really have an effect on you, don’t I?”

Steve blushed. “Shut up.” 

“Not my fault that I’m a stud.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar,” Peña whispered, hooking an arm around Steve’s neck. He kissed his cheek hard. Steve laughed, pushing at him but Peña had him trapped, so he grabbed a handful of Peña’s shirt and dragged him in for another kiss instead. Javi could taste the lust on his tongue. It turned him on. Reaching out, he touched Murphy’s chest, sliding his hand up to his throat. He could feel Steve’s erratic pulse fluttering just beneath the skin there. Suddenly, he got the irresistible urge to pin him down and fuck him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last one. It's rated E for Explicit, though.

As Javi tried to hold himself back a bit, Steve was oblivious. He passed his hand along the inside of Javi’s thigh and pressed his fingertips into the flesh there. Steve spread his hand out and pushed his palm against the denim of his jeans, his other arm wrapping around Javi’s waist. Every new sensation he was feeling brought fresh sparks of lust in his chest. He felt Javi’s hands on him, and he felt safe. He finally trusted him enough to give him what he wanted.

Steve unbuttoned his jeans and moved Javi’s hand to his crotch. He sucked in a sharp breath as Javi’s hand palmed his manhood. “I got you,” Peña murmured against his mouth, and Steve nodded. “I know,” Steve said shakily, white-knuckling a handful of Peña’s shirt. He forced himself to relax as Javi kissed him deeply. It felt good to be touched again. He eased into it, his knees knocking open, and Javi stroked him through his cotton boxers. He was really hard. Curiously, Steve moved his hand to Javi’s crotch, and found him in a similar state. Javi gave a moan of approval as Steve unbuttoned him, too. His hand slid between the tight fly of his jeans and the hard-on pressed against Javi’s leg. 

To be honest, Murphy was way out of his league. He knew how guys worked, and how gays worked, but he didn’t really understand how it was gonna work with him and Peña. He didn’t want to think about it. Anything he did was probably going to be fine by him, anyway.

Javi pushed him onto his back and knelt over him, pausing only to let them undress each other. Steve’s chest was pale, while Javi’s was tan; his nipples pink, while Javi’s were dark; and his chest hair was curly and thick, while Javi’s was barely anywhere to be seen. Javier ran his hands over Steve’s chest hair, savoring the muscle there, and then his bare back and shoulders, pressing his chest to Steve’s and pushing him down into the couch. 

Javi was completely smooth and soft. Steve pushed his fingers into Javi’s brown curls as he felt teeth sink into his throat. It sent a sharp pang of lust to his groin. He was fully turned on now. Reaching down with his free hand, he grabbed Javi’s ass, which was nicer than he’d like to admit, and Javi ground their groins together. Steve moaned softly. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

They lay consumed in one another - touching, kissing, moaning - until they couldn’t take it anymore. Javi broke their kiss, both of them panting for air, and looked at Steve hazily. “Don’t move,” he murmured. Then, leaving Steve hot and hard, he slid away to the bedroom. Murphy lay there in a daze wearing fully unbuttoned jeans and nothing else. He’d never in a _million_ years thought he’d be in a situation like this. Something about Javi just drove him crazy; it was probably that narrow waist of his. Steve grinned as though he were enjoying a private joke, absently touching himself. Javi would probably be doing the fucking. He bit his lip. Somehow, he was okay with that.

Peña returned with half a box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant. When he saw Steve’s face, he laughed and tossed the lube to him. “What are you thinking?” He asked. “You wanna go first?”

Steve stared at him. He forgot how sexy Peña looked shirtless. His eyes followed his soft curves, his soft stomach dotted with scars, and the hard-on straining against his undone jeans, eventually ending up back on his handsome face. His hair was a mess thanks to Steve. There was a cocky smirk on his face, but his lips were red from Steve biting them, and that comforted him. “We’re… taking turns?” Steve managed.

“Unless you don’t want your’s,” Peña offered.

Murphy chuckled. “This one is all you, Javi. I’m just along for the ride.”

Peña nodded. “Then you’ll get one.” 

“Oh, shit,” Steve muttered as Peña hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Steve’s jeans and tugged them off. They pooled on the floor along with his boxers. Naked, nervous, Steve looked up at Javi hesitantly. “This isn’t gonna hurt, right?”

“No. I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” Peña kissed him tenderly, and Steve savored it. When they parted again, Javi motioned to his jeans. “What’s sexier? On or off?”

“Off,” Steve said immediately. “I absolutely do _not_ want to be the only naked one here.”

Javi raised an eyebrow as he loosened his jeans. “Is someone else coming?”

“Who else did you invite?”

“Carillo,” Peña said, pushed off his pants and underwear and kicking them away. “Although, he’s a bit late.”

Steve grinned. “Fuck off.”

“I think that’d defeat the purpose of all this.” Javi smirked as he pinned him down on the couch again, kissing him deeply. He paused. “You’re shaking again.”

“You’re not just gonna…?”

“Steve, no.”

“Thank _God_.”

Peña kissed him, to get him to stop talking and to distract him while he put a little lubricant on his hand. “Just relax,” he said. Propping up one of Steve’s knees over his shoulder, Peña sat back. He wrapped one hand around Steve’s cock and used his lubricated hand to massage the area beneath his balls. 

“Fuck,” Steve moaned. “Have you done this before?”

“I’ve seen it done.” Javi gave his cock a good stroke. “Now relax.”

“Right. Right.” Steve lay back and shut his eyes to escape the embarrassment of having another man pleasure him. But he wasn’t shaking anymore. He lifted his arms over his head and folded them together, gripping his own forearms as Javi’s finger began to prod him in ways that he didn’t think were possible. Stabs of pleasure came from everywhere he was being touched. Then, gently, a finger worked its way inside him, and it felt good. His lips parted. The further it went, the better it felt, until the gentle pumping was just a tease. He moaned gruffly as Javi slid in a second finger, pressing his insides with precision. He’d _definitely_ done this before. Three fingers. Steve gripped the arm of the couch. 

“Steve,” Javi said softly, withdrawing his hand. Steve opened his eyes, chest heaving, dizzy with pleasure, and their eyes met. He glanced down and saw Javi fondling himself. “Relax,” Peña repeated. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve managed. He watched Peña slide a condom on his cock with a stable hand and wondered what it was like to be that fucking calm at a time like this. What he didn’t know was that Javi was so fucking horny at the sight of Steve prostrate and nude on his couch that he was losing his goddamn mind. 

Javi shifted his hips into position and pressed the tip of his cock against Steve’s asshole, forcing himself to take it easy, but it slid right inside. He bit his lip and slowly pushed it in deeper, careful not to start off too fast. Then Steve made a noise of pleasurable surprise and it completely did him in. Peña leaned forward, thrusting his cock deep inside Steve, and an irresistible lust consumed him. He stopped thinking. His body took over where his mind left off, thrusting in and out of Steve with an even, tantalizing rhythm, his steady hands holding him in place.

Steve was writhing in pleasure. Parts of him no one had ever touched were being penetrated; he struggled to stay silent as he got fucked wholly and deeply for the very first time. Moans kept slipping out from between his lips. Javi’s cock was rubbing up against his insides in a delicious way. Now he really knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of things. 

Javi used his body to pin Steve to the couch, anchoring his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and on his waist for support as he fucked him. It was better than he’d ever dreamed. He shoved his cock into Steve up to the hilt, and the noise Steve made was heavenly. Javi pushed Steve’s knees open further with his own, dragging him down for a better angle. It was suddenly a much deeper fuck. He watched the slack-jawed look of eroticisism on Steve’s face deepen to ultimate pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasped. “Fuck, fuck… Yeah…” He moaned. “Oh, yeah…”

Javi bit his lip and fucked him steady until Steve couldn’t take it anymore. When Steve put hands on his chest and tried to get him to back off a bit, Javi obliged. He stopped thrusting for a second and pulled out. His muscles felt incredible, as did his cock. “You good?” He panted. Steve made a noise of approval. Smirking, Javi held out his hand. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“Oh, shit… There’s more…?” Steve took Javi’s hand and let the man haul him over until he was in position for doggy style. Javi put his hand between Steve’s shoulder blades and pushed his shoulders down a little more until the angle was perfect. 

“You have no idea,” Javi chuckled. He put it back in. 

Steve sucked in a sharp breath as Javi immediately sunk in up to the hilt, pushing his cock so far inside of him that he felt like he might burst. “God… _damn!”_ He gasped. 

Fucking him slowly, Javi took him by the waist and gave him a few hard thrusts. “You like that?”

“ _Yes_ , fuck,” Steve moaned. He put his forehead on a pillow of his arms and arched his back. “Fuck me… oh, fuck…”

Javi gave it to him as good as he knew how, but he wasn’t going to last forever, especially not with how sexy Steve was acting. The moaning, the writhing; his body was clamped around his manhood like a steel trap. Every thrust was ecstasy. He tried to take it easy, but he just couldn’t. It was too good. After an hour of switching positions, interrupting his own climax a dozen times, and holding back, finally it was too much for him anymore. He made Steve kneel upright as he fucked him, body to body, one arm around his neck and the other around his waist, and he tightened his grip as an new, stronger orgasm began to build in his groin. 

He was seized with it. Railing Steve, who was helpless with pleasure, Javi sank his teeth into Steve’s throat as the prickle of climax spread like a wildfire. There was a heartbeat of tantalizing, hungry limbo, and then he automatically thrust up as hard as he could, shooting his seed into the tip of the condom deep within Steve. He came so hard that he saw stars. A noise of ecstasy and revel spilled out of him - the only one to date - and it was over. Panting, his heart pounding, his cock throbbing with pleasure, Javi dropped his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder and struggled to catch his breath. 

“Fuck,” Steve whispered. He felt Javi hold onto the condom as he pulled out, then he heard him take it off and drop it alongside the couch. It took them ten minutes to catch their breath. Javi collapsed onto the couch to rest. Steve, his asshole aching, lay cramped next to him, their arms over each other. 

“Did you finish?” Javi said at last.

“Yeah, like twenty minutes ago,” Steve replied. “When you stuck your finger in there and hit my prostate dead-on.”

“Oh, I thought that was after.”

“Nope.” 

Javi released a long, deep breath. “That was fucking amazing.”

Steve nodded wearily. “Yeah.” He touched his neck tenderly; it was covered in hickies. “I’ve certainly my first-time battle scars.” 

“Sorry. It’s something that I can’t really help.”

“I can tell. You really like to mark your territory.” Steve chuckled. “Fuck, Javi. If I knew you were that good, I’d have been here every night.”

“I tried to tell you.”

“No you didn’t, asshole.”

“Well… I was being humble.” 

“Clearly.” 

“... Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re staying over tonight, right?”

Steve paused. “Yeah. I am.”

Javi carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Good.”

“Why?”

“... No reason.”

“Liar.”

Grinning, Javi managed to sit up, groaning as he did. “I need a piss and a cigarette.”

Steve, nodding, carefully got to his feet and wobbled across the room to get the carton as Javi padded to the bathroom. Steve took out two cigarettes and grabbed the lighter. When he sat down on the couch, he hissed in pain. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

Javi was back in a flash, wiping his hands dry on a towel. He tossed it to Steve. “You’re gonna walk wrong for a week totally covered in hickies. The guys are gonna know immediately that we slept together.”

“Fuck, no way. Really?”

“They tease me about the hickie thing all the time.”

“Shit.”

Sitting down beside him, both of them nude, coated in sweat, and thoroughly disheveled, Javi accepted the offered cigarette and opted to light it at the end of Murphy’s instead of using the lighter. He inhaled deeply. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I don’t really give a shit.” Steve smoked quietly for a minute. Both of them were still sort of hazy. Leaning against Javi’s shoulder, Steve said nothing, thinking about how good he just got laid and how fucking _soft_ Javi’s skin was. He’d never known a man to be soft before. Apparently, he still had a lot to learn about this shit. “I’m in love with you, Peña,” he said absently. 

Javi glanced at him curiously. “Feeling bold, are we?”

“Just wanted to really get it out.”

“I’m in love with you too, Murphy.” Javi sighed out a cloud of smoke. “I guess it only gets worse from here on out, ‘cause nothing is _ever_ gonna top this right here.”

Steve shrugged. “We haven’t done oral yet.”

Javi choked on his nicotine and dissolved into a coughing fit. Steve laughed boisterously and knocked his back a few good times. “There’s always a silver lining, I guess,” Javi croaked. 

“Yeah.” Steve grinned around the filter of a cigarette clenched between his teeth. “I guess there is.”


End file.
